


The Joy of Kirkwall

by i_dalliance



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, I missed Kirkwall, Suicidal Thoughts, The hawke squad is a way of life, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, this is more for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_dalliance/pseuds/i_dalliance
Summary: Kirkwall was that sort of city, a place where people just ended up at. Lavellan ends up there as well, a haunted look around her as she gets used to normalcy that was Varric and his group of friends.





	The Joy of Kirkwall

**Author's Note:**

> This mostly started as a 'what if' thing after playing through Trespasser and Varric giving you the estate. it slowly morphed into something more personal so I hope you enjoy it.

“Here is the estate,” Varric gave a twirling walk around, arms up in the air as he pretended not to be surrounded by the smell of dust and the lingering stench of blood, “The smell should come out, the previous owner was a blood mage who made a mess of things.”

“So I'm to assume that my plans of Dalish sacrifices to the moon are to be put off,” Lavellan dryly said and Senechal Bran gave an uneasy look at that.

Varric couldn't help but give a chuckle, happy to see anything but that blank stare he got when Lavellan finally roamed into Kirkwall after months of being missing. It almost seemed too much for her, arm taken by the man who broke her heart twice.

“Please tell me you're joking,” a tired nasally sound came from Bran and Lavellan deflated, seeming to have forgotten the Senechal there to stop Varric from giving away anything else.

“Of course it's a joke,” Varric said, Lavellan awkwardly looking around while taking in the cold drab stone of the estate.

“Thank you Varric,” she said, “I'll be fine.”

“I'll be at the Viscount’s keep, down the large road,” his hand was on her remaining arm in concern, “Please visit me this week so I know you're still here.”

“Okay mamae,” Lavellan just replied instinctively, beginning to roam through the estate as the two of them left.

Silence fell across the estate and she summoned a ball of vielfire with her hand. She looked over it all, seeing the general disarray everything was in. Lavellan absentmindedly adjusted a creepy portrait on the wall before sighing, wondering how she’d manage to clean everything by herself.

Maybe an estate was a little too much for her, especially since she refused to hire anyone.

That fear that Solas would still be keeping an eye on her was too strong, it was hard enough seeing the white wolf on the distance of her dreams.

She threw open the door, seeing the light flicker from the windows and correctly guessed it lead to the garden. She strode over to the well, pulling up the bucket and hoping that the water wouldn’t smell like rotten meat.

She figured she deserved some good luck after everything, the water perfectly good and not somewhere bodies were tossed.

“Let’s get started then,” she hoisted the bucket up, carrying it back inside to place it in the fireplace to heat up with some choice herbs while awkwardly sweeping with one hand.

Sweat began to pillow on her body as she cleaned, absent-mindedly sweeping through the room before mopping with the bucket that was becoming an odd mixture of brown and a reddish tint. Lavellan wiped her neck clean after finishing the fifth room - some sort of guest bedroom or one of them - and a loud knock rumbling through the estate.

She shifted slightly as she debated answering and her mind was quickly made up as it began to grow more angry and determined.

Lavellan quickly ran to the front door and opened it, seeing a very sturdy woman standing there. Her reddish hair was cropped close, a braided headband around her head as she stared Lavellan down. She noticed the guard uniform, a bit more elaborate than the other guards she had seen around.

“I heard you were here,” the woman said, “Varric pushed for me to keep an eye on you but I would have anyway.”

“Um,” Lavellan said looking awkwardly before holding out her hand, “I am Ellana Lavellan.”

“Captain of the guard, Aveline,” she shook the hand and Lavellan was struck by how firm her grip was, certain that she could absolutely throw her if need be.

“Don’t blow anything up,” Aveline said as she let go of Lavellan’s hand, “and welcome to Kirkwall, let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

“You often stop to see people who move in?”

“I do when Varric decides to take them under his wing,” Aveline said before turning around, “I just know that I’ll have to see you again, might as well meet you on my own terms.”

Lavellan watched the Guard amble back to the Viscount’s Keep, the guards she passed saluting her. She slowly closed the door, walking back to the room where she picked up the mop again to slowly wipe down the floor and walls.

* * *

She dug into the dirt of the garden, planting the seeds that she had carried with her for so long. Her breath caught in her throat as the small tendrils of green pushed out of the soil and growing a few leaves. Some of them shot up like weeds, enjoying the water and sunlight that they got from her tender care. Some were slowly going along, gently considering things before growing even larger.

Lavellan certainly wasn’t expecting an elf to be sitting in her garden as she stepped outside to see how things were going.

Magic welled up around her and the elf shot up, feeling the way that magic shot up around her while she turned around to look at Lavellan. Shock painted her face and suspicions filled Lavellan, wondering if this woman was Solas’ doing.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” a clear Dalish accent came from the woman, her black hair shifting from the loose ponytail it was in as she raised her hands.

Lavellan stared at her, wondering if she was a member of the Dread Wolf’s army. Vallaslin painted her face and Lavellan was sharply aware of her bare face.

“How’d you get here?”

“I climbed the wall,” her explanation made Lavellan’s eyebrow shoot up, making her more and more suspicious.

“Why are you here?” Lavellan asked, taking a small step forward, “Who are you?”

“Oh… I’m Merrill,” she said while standing up and brushing dirt from her pants, “You don’t need to say anything, Varric told us all everything.”

“Not everything though,” Merrill said, “He didn’t say how you lost your arm, not even a story about you fighting off five dragons to save orphans.”

“Ah,” Lavellan said, finger absentmindedly stroking the plant next to her.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Merrill said while beginning to climb up the wall, “I remember how lost I got when I moved here.”

Lavellan just watched while Merrill threw herself over the wall, promptly landing in her snotty neighbours garden. She heard a disgruntled yell and she couldn’t help but smile, hating the man and the way that his lip upturned whenever he saw Lavellan.

“I should have guessed,” Lavellan said before walking back into the estate, wondering which of Varric’s odd friend’s she’d meet next.

* * *

“I thought I told you to visit me,” Varric said as he entered, looking around to see the way that Lavellan managed to clean things up.

“I got busy,” Lavellan said, hardly looking up from the book while Varric glared at her.

“I’m wounded,” he said with his dry amused tone, “no time to see your dearest friend.”

“My dearest friend who sends people into my garden,”  she replied dryly in response and Varric just laughed.

“Don’t mind Daisy,” he said, “She does that to everyone.”

“I figured.”

Lavellan looked to the fire, seeing it begin to fade down. Lavellan leant down to grab a letter and toss it in, Varric giving a laugh as he noticed the seal of Starkhaven beginning to melt in the heat.

“Sebastian?”

When Lavellan nodded he couldn’t help but laugh harder, seeing her toss another letter in. Varric just sat down and held out his hand, tossing in the letter that Lavellan gave to him.

“I should have thought of this.”

“Well it’s a good thing that I’m here,” Lavellan said before grabbing her book, a romance serial that seemed to be saved from the blood that coated some of the more suspicious books in the house.

The two of them sat there, Varric pulling out a quill and scribbling something down on a piece of parchment he pulled from his coat. Judging from his face it was a manuscript of something, Lavellan’s heart aching as she realised her friend probably couldn't do much writing anymore with his duties as Viscount.

Or maybe it was the saccharine book she was reading, some sappy story about two nobles putting their love over duty and everything working out.

‘Var lath vir suledin’ rang through her head, the way that Solas tenderly cradled her hand as if it was the most precious thing in the world. The memory of his lips pressed against hers made her bite deeply into her lip, the taste of iron filling her mouth as blood oozed from it.

She wiped it away absentmindedly with a wash of healing magic.

Solas was gone, their love would endure but she wasn’t sure if she could.

* * *

Her heart sank, her eyes tightly closed as water began to lap at her ankles. Her heart roared, that feeling of the fade pressing all over her. She knew where they put her, cursing whatever being that brought her here whether demon or spirit

Her leg took a step back, freezing as she was unsure whether the water was starting to climb up her legs. She suddenly felt the air leave her, panic filling her as she began to feel like every breath began to slip away from her no matter how hard that she tried.

She took a deep breath, feeling her eyes begin to sting more with tears with each breath. She wished for the anchor more than ever to brush away the strings of the fade that wove together the dream.

She just stood there, ignoring the voices that called her to open her eyes. She knew she'd have to face it eventually, not sure if it'll break her entirely when she does.

She could accept being a coward, just this once.

* * *

She supposed it was inevitable, despite her attempts to be self-sufficient with the garden there were things she couldn't grow. Meat and spices that weren't able to grow in the climate here.

So she actually had to go outside.

Though it also got Varric off her back as well, as the garden didn't count towards that apparently.

Her feet carried her forward, cloak draped over her shoulders to keep the nobility from staring at her. She got a few feet into Hightown before realising that she had no idea on where she was going.

She stood there awkwardly wondering if she just stopped eating that Varric would just send her food. She shook that thought from her head, Lavellan was already asking too much from him.

She just started to walk forward, certain that if she followed the sound of people she would find something or at least someone willing to help an elf. Lavellan heard an angry voice, her body turning to it as she heard “knife ear”.

An elven woman stood there, seeming to ignore the fuming human. Her pale hair was pulled up into a bun, twisted beautifully while her green eyes stared forward.

“If you don’t pay for that I will send for the guards.”

Lavellan reached into her coin purse to hand over the money but the woman just put the money down herself, all while giving a cold look. She just tilted her head while the man stared at her, trying to ignore the small smile on the elven woman’s face.

Lavellan just watched the mans face pale as his eyes flickered to the crest happily shown on the coin purse. Lavellan wished that she knew the estates better, the bird-like lines meaning nothing to her. She took a few steps forward, figuring that this was her chance to figure out where the food was kept.

“Excuse me,” Lavellan said while the woman looked around, a smile on her face, “Do you know where the food section of the market is?”

“I’ve heard of you,” was the first thing out of the woman’s mouth and Lavellan raised an eyebrow at that and she gave a small awkward laugh.

“From Mis… Hawke,” she said, “and I’ll show you, I needed to get some ingredients for tonight anyway.”

The two of them walked in silence, the thin woman confidently slipping through the streets until the rumble of voices could be heard up ahead. Lavellan picked at a stubborn stain of dirt on her outfit, the silence gnawing away at her especially after that dream.

“You like to read?” she asked finally, the woman looking at her with such piercing green eyes.

“Yes,” she gave a soft smile, “I find that I love it.”

“I…” Lavellan said, “what's your name.”

“Oh,” she said, suddenly flustered, “my name is Orana.”

“You said you knew Hawke,” She asked while adjusting her cloak with her hand, feeling the wind pick up and push at her.

Her face grew wistful and a bit firm, almost sad as she stared off into the distance. She held her hand, Lavellan ignoring the scars that tenderly cradled.

“I was a slave,” she said, “Hawke gave me a home, a job, taught me to read. When Hawke had to leave she gave me her estate.”

Guilt filled Lavellan, that decision in the fade rushing back to her. There was no time to think, just the first name to come to her mind slipping and with that, she sent someone to their death for them. There was no subtlety or thought, no decision based on merit or effect.

“I…”

“When I heard about Adamant I wanted to scream,” she looked right through Lavellan, “Hawke gave everything, she'd offer her life without question.”

“Thank you for not taking it.”

* * *

When she finally collapsed from exhaustion, Varric all but ordering her to her room with a concern that came from his tendency to care too deeply for the people close to him. She just immediately closed her eyes and refused to open them, taking a deep breath as she wondered if she could will the landscape to change.

Lavellan was no Dreamer but the Anchor changed her slightly to the point she could swear she could see the threads that pieced together the Fade.

Her head began to ache, a thrumming beat that kept knocking against the inside of her skull. The gentle lapping of water refused to go away and she felt the corners of her eyes burn, water slowly rocking against her legs.

She knew he was there, certain that her heartbroken and terrified expression refusing to look slowly brought the wolf in. She opened her mouth ready to demand her privacy if he was going to continue this charade of loving her when a loud noise rumbled through her estate, ripping Lavellan from the fade.

Her limbs moved in a tumble as she pushed herself out of her too large bed and ran to the nearest window to see someone familiar standing there with her hands up in the air with rain pouring down onto the ground, darkness settling around Hawke as her body shone with the light of her magic. An elf with pure white hair slashed ahead with a two-handed sword, shattering the thugs who were frozen.

It was Hawke as Lavellan had never seen her, there a clear rapturous joy on her face while her body twisted to strike down people with her magic. As the last enemy fell Hawke took a step to the elf, pressing kisses across his face with her hands trailing across her cheek and gently brushing the soaked bangs out of his face.

Lavellan pushed away from the window as if burned, trying to ignore the pain that flared up inside of her at the way Fenris tenderly held Hawke or even at the dream that still lingered in her mind.

Something inside of her bubbled up inside of her and she began to sob, tears streaming down her face as it all poured over. She wished she had never gone to the Conclave, lived her life with her clan or the little that she had.

She fell to her knees, her shoulders shaking as she loudly cried everything she had just swallowed bubbling up and poured down her face with a tension palpable through the air.

Exhaustion swallowed her as she hiccuped, her body curling up on the floor as her eyes just ached.

Morning light trailed across her face as she pushed herself off the chilly ground, her one hand shifting her upright as her eyes felt crusted over. Her back pressed against the wall and she rubbed her eyes, taking a breath as she steadied herself for something that she had been avoiding.

Her foots rumbled through the estate around her as she walked, moving to the locket that she had stashed away the first day she came here. Her thumb trailed across it before opening, a flicker of magic coming to live just underneath her fingers.

“Dorian?” she asked, her voice raspy with both fatigue and sobbing while she shifted slightly.

Silence answered her as anxiety began to build up inside of her, wondering if Dorian had given up on her ever talking to him again or perhaps he was just busy. Her hand moved to put it down and she nearly jumped as his voice angrily rung out of it with a slight vibration.

“I’m going to kill you.”

A laugh bubbled up inside of her, something too frantic and long to be anything happy. Dorian’s voice got more irritated and she wheezed out an apology.

“I mean it,” he lectured her, concern clear in his voice and she could almost see the way her friend’s face twisted, “It has been months, I thought you died. Where are you?”

“Kirkwall,” she said, sitting down in her armchair while fiddling with a stray string absentmindedly with the strings trailing in her fingers, “in my estate.”

“The safest city in Thedas,” his sarcasm was clear as he gave a thinking noise before barking out in annoyance, “Varric’s fault, I assume.”

“I have nowhere else to go,” she confessed, her eyes closed.

Before he could say anything else she quickly blurted out something, unable to deal with his sympathy any longer.

“How’s being a magister going?”

* * *

Lavellan stood in her entryway, easing her feet into her boots as something bubbled inside of her. Her hand moved to the doorknob, freezing for a moment before fear grabbed deep in her throat. She swallowed that down, opening the door to walk out into the smokey air of the city.

Her feet just kept walking forward, her mind slowly slipping from the dark haze that had lingered even before she got here. She walked through the streets of Hightown to Lowtown where she found the tavern that Varric told her to come to.

The sign swung in the breeze, a stylized picture of a man hanging from his feet. A proud banner was on the wall to the side, informing passerby’s that it was a favourite of the Viscount. She pushed open the door and made her way through the scruffy floors, passing by a waitress who was nursing her own drink while serving others.

She pushed herself up the stairs, panting for breath at the realisation that she had mostly just stayed in her estate stuck in dark thoughts instead of any serious physical activities. She heard Varric talking, a low sultry laugh in response as Lavellan opened the door.

A woman with dark curly hair, spilling from a bicorn as she leant forward with her hands on a card and Merrill groaned as Lavellan saw Varric subtly slip the Dalish elf a few more coins to make up for her loss.

“Isabela,” she said with a tilt of her head at Lavellan, her eyes twinkling with something as she trailed her eyes across Lavellan’s body.

Lavellan didn’t know where to rest her eyes when she saw Hawke sprawled in Fenris’ lap, her hand trailing down his back and gently fiddling with the long hair swept back there. His eyes flickered to her, Fenris’ eyebrows pinching together in something Lavellan didn’t quite understand before he turned his attention back to Hawke.

“Lavellan,” Varric said, hands shooting up in the air and Hawke lunged forward to stop her mug from clattering to the ground, “You made it!”

“Still no nickname?” she asked as she sat down,

“It’s still blasphemous,” was all he said in response before dealing her in, Merrill looking at her with her green eyes.

“Why do they call you Herald of Andraste,” she said, “You’d think Herald of the Creators would be better.”

“Elgar’nan?” Merrill mumbled to herself while absentmindedly straightening her cards and Varric and Lavellan shared a forced smile, “maybe Mythal.”

“What happened to your face marks,” Aveline said and Merrill piped up ‘Vallaslin’ next to her, “I thought all Dalish had them.”

“You had them when I saw you last,” Hawke added and Varric caught Lavellan’s eyes, letting her know that he’d step in with a lie if Lavellan wanted him to.

Lavellan laid down her cards and gave a slight groan when Isabela took even more from her friends, Aveline growing red in the face with anger and crumbling while looking over her cards again. Lavellan slid forward a bit with her hand clinging to the table like a lifeline.

“The Dread Wolf took them,” she finally said and Merrill just gave a nod, murmuring something.

The interest ebbed from Lavellan and instead, Isabela started her attention on Hawke and Fenris, judging by the way Aveline rolled her eyes and that Hawke was smiling a bit it was pretty common for Isabela to try and weasel herself into their shared bed.

Merrill leaned over to pat Lavellan’s wrist, a smile on her face while Isabela slipped a Dalish trinket back into the elf’s pocket.

“I know what it’s like to not be able to return to your clan,” she said, her face a little sad and caring, “You stop seeing them in the crowd eventually.”

Lavellan blinked away tears, staring at the cards she tightly held in her grip while she willed away the tears. She just watched the rest of them, enjoying the way that they clearly cared about each other despite their differences.

The night ebbed away and people trickled out, or in Isabela’s case just moving to another room in the tavern. Soft snoring filled the room while Hawke slept against Fenris’ shoulder, the fellow elf counting the coins he got near the end when Isabela got too drunk to cheat well.

“I was angry at you,” he finally said, “Varric stopped me from showing that but I still am.”

Lavellan’s shoulders hunched together, her hand grasping her thigh while refusing to look at him.

“This city nearly destroyed her,” his hands were so tender while gently brushing away the hair from Hawke’s face, “Sebastian demanding vengeance and the abomination betraying her, she seemed to shut down almost as soon as the battle was over.”

“I…”

“I don’t want apologies,” Fenris snapped and Lavellan just stared at him with a blank look and Hawke shuffled a bit, Fenris’ face softening as Hawke shifted.

“I don’t know what I want,” he admitted, his eyebrows twitching with emotion, “But I will tear anyone apart who tries to put her through that again.”

“Noted,” was all Lavellan said, any other words or excuses that the Inquisition was gone or even that small feeling of dread that everything may come crashing down any day.

* * *

She wondered when things began to change, her regular visit to that lake instead inspiring horror and dread slipping into something that’s apathetic. After months she finally opened her eyes, seeing the lake that haunted her for months.

It was tranquil, a light mist hovering over the water as the chill of morning filled the air. Her feet shifted, slowly sinking her more and more into the water with each step. That darkness was still hiding somewhere in her breast but it was smaller now, the voice quieted with the way she crawled her way up.

There was no urge to keep walking, moving until the water became too much and dragged her down. No thoughts of drowning and ending it all she instead just stood there, seeing something that haunted her as the decision to keep living as nerves had grabbed her.

Instead, the lake became something she overcame despite the haunting realisation that she’d struggle with this forever.

She just stood there, taking everything in as she waited for a new day. And whatever struggles that tomorrow may bring.


End file.
